


Midnight angel, won't you say you will

by Another Wayward Cowgirl (viajeramyra)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Times, Kissing, Lust, M/M, Neck Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28513596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viajeramyra/pseuds/Another%20Wayward%20Cowgirl
Summary: Arms fell over Din’s shoulders, drawing him closer as though Cobb feared the new sensations might spook him. Little in life had before, at least not in recent years. He’d mastered fear, moved past insecurities and resonating self-doubts. They weren’t useful emotions, not in his line of work. They didn’t have a place in his life, couldn’t be channeled into something more productive. Now, though, they fueled something almost giddy, allowed for a smile to break against Cobb’s mouth.--In which Din is unwilling to leave Mos Pelgo without a little exploration of his budding feelings for the Marshal.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 15
Kudos: 163





	Midnight angel, won't you say you will

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I should have finished my updated for Any Man of Mine tonight, but a little conversation on Twitter got my brain thinking about something else, so here we are. 
> 
> Thanks to my two lovely Twitter friends for helping inspire this idea.

It started hours ago, with the sun beating down on his neck as he watched Cobb step away to help the Tuskens finish carving up what remained of the krayt dragon. He inhaled, shoulders bearing the weight as he let the breath slowly back out through his nose. His hand slid along the pack, tightly bundled on top of his speeder. As it moved, his thumb brushed along the warm beskar, just along the curve of the helmet. In accordance with their agreement, Cobb surrendered the armor only a few hours after the battle. Without the tight clamps around his chest and shoulders, Cobb’s baggy sweater hid away the grooves of lean muscle Din already knew existed underneath.  
  
They couldn’t stay, him and the Kid. Even sworn to secrecy, the events that unfolded just outside of Mos Pelgo would spread like a blazing fire. It wouldn’t take much for his name to become associated with the tale, for his presence to become a threat to the very people he just helped. More importantly, the rippled effects attached to his name these days would bring more trouble than it was worth for _Cobb_.  
  
And yet— Din had been unable to convince himself to leave.  
  
With one look at the Child, who only looked up at him with wide eyes and with a particular fixation on the slimy green muck splattered across his armor, Din followed after Cobb.  
  
After all, what would one more evening on Mos Pelgo be the difference between? It gave him better resources to clean his beskar, without carrying the potent smell onto the Razor Crest. Cobb might even be generous enough to allow him access to a proper ‘fresher, maybe even a comfortable bed.  
  
Which was exactly how they’d found themselves _here._ The Kid slept quietly in the next room, a small area but complete with a cot that looked colossal in comparison. Din imagined he’d sleep through the night, even if the surface was foreign from recent months. They had nothing to worry about then, as they tumbled back into Cobb’s bedroom, door promptly locked.  
  
He enjoyed the warm water, the steam releasing the last of his tension. Din squared his shoulders, the little mirror fogged with the door shut. They agreed to turns, Cobb waving his explanations about the helmet away without objection. Now, Cobb waited on the other side, propped back on the bed. His skin glowed, the twin suns of Tatooine blessing it with a hint of olive, smooth skin waiting under layers of sand and dust. Cobb’s hair was even lusher after he’d washed up, a dedicated team of products miraculously obtained. Leaving had taken most of Din’s willpower, his fingers folded into his palms, nearly clenched into fists. But, the events of the day were draining, and the ‘fresher gave him a blissful moment of peace to summon the fullest of his strength.  
  
The spare pair of trousers Cobb let him borrow fit snugly at his hips, though it wouldn’t matter. If anything, it _might_ actually help. They hadn’t spoken of intentions, silent communication quickly being established in other ways. It was in the way Cobb’s hand cupped the back of his neck while they cooked, his helmet and Cobb’s forehead almost bumped together, as they cooked. Din observed it in the way his hand flexed, wanting to touchthe scruffy beard, as though it would flood his body with electric pulses and satisfy whatever _yearning_ he was experiencing.  
  
When he opened the door again, Cobb threw his legs over the side of the bed, greeting him a little nod and the charming smile that caused stupid flutters in the pit of his stomach. “So, I can’t see your face but is there anythin’ else I should be aware of? Don’t wanna go breakin’ any rules.”  
  
“No, nothing else is forbidden.” The little pulses inside Din’s chest crafted a small nerve that trickled down his spine. The sudden apprehension was misplaced, he knew. He had, after all, been the one to invite himself into Cobb’s home, with a single-minded intention for when the Kid was asleep. All the same, this was _new_. He’d considered it, from time to time. He’d experienced moments throughout the galaxy when someone caught his eye, or when momentary companionship made him wonder about feelings beyond acquaintanceships. But until today, Din had never followed through.  
  
“We don’t have to,” Cobb offered at his hesitance. “I’m fine takin’ the floor, or splittin’ the bed without any funny business.”  
  
“It’s not that,” Din replied, moving to sit next to him on the bed. “I’ve not…”  
  
Cobb nodded, lifting Din’s hand to his lips in a solemn kiss. The hairs above Cobb’s lip brushed along Din’s knuckles, the pleasant scratches adding to the soothing feeling spreading through him. He placed another, turning Din’s hand over to allow a little line down to his veins. His eyes fluttered with each touch Cobb left behind, the anxiety subdued with each passing second. “We can be slow, Mando. You just gotta tell me what you’re comfortable with.”  
  
“My name is Din Djarin,” he answered, taking the red bandana that sat waiting across Cobb’s knee in his hands. He ran the material between his fingers, the soft material thick enough to block out any light from Cobb’s eyes. Somehow, he knew even without it, Cobb would diligently keep his eyes screwed shut, even if curiosity crept up. It probably explained part of the desire bubbling inside him, reading to burst at any moment.  
  
“Din,” Cobb whispered, his name carried off the man’s lips like the sand by a gentle breeze over Tatooine. Tender. Vulnerable. Despite Din’s ack of experience, Cobb was stripping away the lines of his defenses and laying himself just as bare in this room.  
  
With the scarf tied in a knot behind Cobb’s head and the helmet removed from his own, Din’s thumb ran along the curve of the Marshal’s chin, following along until it reached the round of his jaw. Little hairs pricked his skin, jolting little impulses, guiding his actions. It was easier than he anticipated, as his fingers curled behind Cobb’s ear. His thumb curved along Cobb’s cheekbone in the shape of tiny crescent moons, the encouraging hum enough for Din to finally bow his head and close the minuscule distance left remaining between them.  
  
The anticipated feeling of sandpaper against his skin warped into something else, spreading far faster and more all-consuming instead. Arms fell over Din’s shoulders, drawing him closer as though Cobb feared the new sensations might spook him. Little in life had before, at least not in recent years. He’d mastered fear, moved past insecurities and resonating self-doubts. They weren’t useful emotions, not in his line of work. They didn’t have a place in his life, couldn’t be channeled into something more productive. Now, though, they fueled something almost giddy, allowed for a smile to break against Cobb’s mouth. For the first time in months, something new was as equally daunting as it was exhilarating. The rush rattled Din to bare bones, only to then slate each piece back into place, sealed with a rare sweetness he so seldomly experienced. There was more beneath it, a fiery passion waiting to be explored, _his_ to lay claim to. It was gentled coaxed in the way Cobb’s fingers pinched the base of his skull, while the other hand carefully explored the span of his back. It was the little mesh, little clicks of tongue and teeth as the kiss probed and grew bolder.  
  
The arm Cobb wrapped around his waist twisted them, Din’s back falling into the middle of the man’s bed. A hand patted against the pillow until Din lifted it and guided it to the side of his head. Cobb’s fingers combed through his hairs, unexpectedly delicate in the middle of the increasing fervor. The Marshal still waited, hovering above him. With another kiss stolen from Din, he finally paused to ask, “you alright?”  
  
“Yes,” he breathed, the word strung with a little hum. The breathlessness seemed too soon, the result of the newness— or maybe just the swelling storm brought on by every little caress Cobb granted or claimed. He reached up, dragging his hands down Cobb’s hips as he guided the man to sit on his waist. The pressure shifted the bed as Cobb bent forward, a finger dipping in the center of Din’s chest. For a man who spent his life in the desert, jobs requiring constant use of his hands, even Cobb’s callouses were still smooth. They left goosebumps across Din’s arms, the hairs standing up as every new sensation flooded through him.  
  
Cobb’s mouth fell against the curve of his jaw then, teeth nipping at the exposed line of skin. Din’s nails curled into the man’s hips, body wonderfully paralyzed beneath this wonderful man. Here, against more sensitive skin, Cobb’s facial hair advantageous. The contrasting sensations thrilled Din, his lips parting to allow a deep moan. Cobb grinned, his content hum vibrating against Din’s pulse point. The trail continued, a lapping mix of Cobb’s mouth seeking, his teeth teasing, and finally tongue soothing the singeing blaze laying claim to him.  
  
Never allowing anyone else the opportunity to possess any part of himself was even more worth it now. Cobb painted his skin with persistent affection, blessed him with the devotion, worshiped with the intensity of a fighter after a hard day’s end. The intensity drew Din’s hands up the man’s sides until at last, they found new purchase in his shoulders. Cobb grunted and suddenly _this_ moment and _this_ man warped around Din, both becoming part of the oxygen he needed to breathe. This might be a mistake, might give his enemies something to discover, to manipulate and hang over his head. But he could protect Cobb, _would_ protect Cobb.  
  
This was all so painful, all so wondrously real. For too long, it had been just him. It seemed the simplest thing for Cobb, to take what no one else had ever been capable of. Before their tense meeting in the cantina, Din wasn’t even sure he ever even wanted any of _this_. But with the moonlight pouring through Cobb’s window, casting shadows on the man’s beautiful face, Din knew why that was. His hands reached, pulling their lips together again.  
  
All this time, he had been looking for Cobb Vanth. Anything less was simply not worth his time. Nothing ever dismissed his ability to seek attachment, as long as he adhered to his Creed. But his skewed values kept him from settling, for taking anything less than the strong-willed devotion by which Cobb Vanth lived his life. Others lacked the way life had hardened Cobb’s exterior while twisting and rebuilding the awaiting man underneath. Razor-sharp edges were a sign of his endurance, a man built to last the test of times and the various elements he confronted. A man a _Mandalorian_ could love, adore, and above all else, depend on through the worst of any fights to come.  
  
The thought chilled him, as the kiss slowed to a halt. Din sighed as Cobb’s lips pulled just a few inches away from his, heavy panting carrying through the otherwise still room. Din laughed, as all worry and resistance vacated, his fingers threading through Cobb’s hair to push the drooping strands away from the man’s forehead.  
  
“That might be the best first kiss I’ve ever had,” Cobb whispered, sloppily placing a peck at the corner of Din’s mouth. “I knew they said Mandalorians were good at a lot of things, but I didn’t think we’d be tryin’ this one.”  
  
“And here you are, living up to the _sweet talker_ persona. How rare for Tatooine.”  
  
“Now, I’d remind you I”m not to be messed with,” Cobb responded with a mirthful laugh. He rolled over, moving next to Din in the bed. Din guided him until their arms were secure around each other and Cobb’s hand tenderly glided up and down his side. “Think you’ll be leavin’ in the mornin’?”  
  
“We have to keep moving. I don’t want anyone to know we were here.”  
  
“Mos Pelgo ain’t on very many maps, Din.”  
  
Cobb’s reassurance came mixed with an unspoken plea, one Din wished he could deliver on, tied together with a silver bow. He vowed to take the Kid to his kind. He _knew_ what staying for too long meant. And yet.  
  
And yet —  
  
A few more nights couldn’t make that much difference, not when this was an increasingly difficult place to find.  
  
“A few more nights, perhaps. If it isn’t a problem for you.”  
  
“I think I can suffer through a few more nights. I’m already quite fond of the little guy’s dad,” Cobb teased, sealed with another delicate kiss.


End file.
